Change of Heart
by Ocean Light
Summary: Updated! (03-02-03) A tortured Draco seeks solace in Hermione on Christmas Eve, and a twisted love triangle ensues.
1. Christmas Eve

In the Great Hall, he sat motionless while the Christmas trees gave their warm but cold company. The colorful lights were transformed into fuzzy stars as his vision was blurred by his version of melted snowflakes. Hate watered his deep, icy eyes.

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Hate. Why am I filled with so much hate? I hate myself. His thoughts triggered his hands into tight fists, and he was exerting all his might to the point where his entire body trembled. Tears were aching to surface on this boy's face, but he wouldn't have that. He did anything to get his mind away from crying, and like this time, he often resorted to inflicting pain upon himself. His self-loathing had risen to such a high level of intensity that he forced his fingernails to pierce his hands. 

With the mixture of pain and giving such useless effort in suppressing the emotions that where sure to overflow, a tear ran down his pale cheek. He was like this small drop of liquid; alone and desperate to get away from his current location in life. 

The single tear was too much. He had given in to the pain, both physically and emotionally. A soft sob escaped his throat, and he clenched his fists even tighter, a punishment for letting his contempt for the world, his father, Potter, and even the dislike of himself get to him in so many ways. 

Blood dripped to the floor while he cringed, gritting his teeth as hard as he could manage, causing soreness in his jaws. 

The cuts in his palms burned as if they were aflame, his blood boiling with searing anger.

Suddenly his torturous thoughts were cut as he saw a flicker of white clothing appear out of the corner of his eye. Before the person could see his face, he wiped his cheek with his sleeve, careful not to use his injured hands. He sniffed and threw a hostile sneer towards the angelic figure that was approaching quickly. 

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Great, Granger's all I need, he sourly thought. Having to speak with her while he was in this fragile condition certainly was not going to have a positive outcome. He figured it would be best for him to insult her as he usually did, just to get her away. But something he saw in her right at that moment, something he couldn't understand, forced him to hold back all that childish, hateful enmity for once.

For the very first time, with the exception of when she first laid eyes on him, her expression was genuinely nice. Whenever their eyes met, she had thrown looks of obvious dislike and disgust since he always took time to humiliate her and her friends, but now it was different. Strangely different.

Her small, delicate frame was clad in a comfortable combination of a white, cotton blouse and black skirt. Traditional. He enjoyed seeing her out of the same old cloak and tacky Gryffindor attire. He'd love to see her in green and silver rather than red and gold. But he had a feeling it would make her cold, just as everyone else who donned the dark Slytherin colors. Emptying her of that contagious warmth was the last thing he wanted at this point.

Although she made no attempt to smile, the boy found her presence able to slice the overwhelming shadow that smothered his mind.

"What are you doing here all alone, Malfoy?"

The simple question went unanswered since he didn't trust his mind or his voice to deliver decent speech. All Draco could manage to do was stare at her with an expressionless mask.

"Malfoy?" Hermione knew something was up. _This is an opportunity to insult and harass me, and he's sitting there like a bump on a log. He does look a tad unwell…pale skin, red eyes_, she said to herself. "What's wrong?"

Finally, with a raspy voice he muttered quickly, "What do you care?"

"Well, it's after hours and-" Her calm reply was abruptly cut off by his venomous accusation. "Oh, it's after hours so you're going to report me. Trying to get me back for catching you and your worthless friends with that dumb old bloke, Hagrid. That was years ago, Granger. Can't let it go? I expect that from -your- kind," Draco spat. He didn't have to mention the word that he meant by using "your" - his angry eyes were screaming, _Mudblood!_

The whole attack was an immediate retort, a weapon he had acquired young in life, but this time it wasn't a good thing to use.

Judging by her reaction, which was crossing her arms and stomping her foot, he knew his words were a mistake, because now he had to deal with her. 

"Just as I thought. Even when I try to be civil towards a Malfoy, all one can do is say negative things. I was passing by on my way from Professor McGonagall's office, saw you sitting by yourself, thought -maybe- you'd need company because I know what it's like to spend Christmas alone, it happened last year when Harry went home with Ron, it was -horrible- and I cried on Christmas morning because I missed them so much, and I wouldn't ever wish that on anyone, but no! You be cold. Apparently you're used to being alone and cold. Maybe it's a shared trait among the Malfoy family. So you stay there, be sullen and gloomy for all I care. Have a rotten, wretched Christmas, you slime," she finished. 

She delivered most of her mini-speech as one sentence, and found herself out of breath and embarrassed that she had said that much babble about her worst Christmas. _Oh well_, she thought. Her point made and feeling proud, she turned to leave.

Meanwhile, the painful words registered in Draco's mind: cold, alone, sullen, gloomy, rotten, wretched, slime. She had butchered all the hope and heart he had left. His emotions were hurdled to the edge of a cliff, his mind barely teetering on the brink of insanity.

He needed her. He needed her light, even though it had just burned him. He yearned for more of the warmth he had experienced before their small exchange of words.

"Wait!" he choked out, his voice stopping her in her tracks. She turned back expecting one of the most violent verbal assaults but was baffled by what she saw – tears.

"I'm sorry, Granger," he breathed, "I'm deeply sorry. You're right. I –am- alone and I need company in the worst of ways." Draco paused, and looking at her with the most pitiful eyes asked, "Would you sit with me? That's all you have to do, just sit… so I won't be alone on Christmas Eve?"

Her face mirrored not just a regular deer but a _retarded_ deer in the headlights, shocked with no understanding at all. She instinctively turned back towards the exit, but her conscience was stabbed by his plea. "_Please, Hermione_!" 

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What does he want? Why me? Why did I decide to be nice to him for once? Is this a trick, what do I do? Her head was swimming in fears that she's had ever since she's known him.

Cautiously she wandered to where he was and gently sat next to him. The silence in the hall was the unnerving kind, and the old bench emitted a creak that made Hermione cringe. The sound resonated to every inch of the room, and Hermione just knew that if it were any louder, a tattletale or teacher could have been wakened, and then she and Draco would have loads of explaining in front of them. 

Once the creak faded, she allowed herself to semi-relax by leaning back and taking a large, healthy breath of dearly needed air. Their thighs almost brushed together, and Hermione noticed how close she had actually gotten to him. Embarrassed, she slightly shifted away from Draco, who was still enjoying the joyous and miserable experiences as one. 

Amidst all the angst, he was observing Hermione as a person. He didn't know what she was truly like, since all he ever saw was the bitter, snide side that she loved to pull out for him. Draco found unusual comfort in knowing that she could be two different people. It gave him the hope that he could change.

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She doesn't want to break the rules, that's for sure. By the way she reacted with us touching- she's a shy lass, and… extremely nervous, he said to himself as his eyes moved to her rapidly moving leg. The bouncing was so vigorous that he felt the irritating vibration through the bench. Suddenly too annoying to ignore, he plainly barked, "Stop it," and grabbed the top of her thigh to cease the movement.

Wincing from the forgotten cuts, Draco silently cursed himself for the mistake. Blood was transferred to her skirt, but to his luck the think, black material soaked the liquid into its pores before the tense girl could notice. He paid special attention in keeping his hands clasped, away from Hermione's keen and skilled eyes.

"What have I done wrong now?" she questioned, "I'm sitting here like you asked."

"Yes, you -were- sitting there until you started reenacting the rabbit from that muggle movie."

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Rabbit from that muggle movie? Oh… Thumper, she realized.

"Sorry 'bout that. I'm a bit tense, is all."

Draco nodded. "Are you afraid of me?"

Hermione was unsure of what he wanted to hear, but after long thought, decided to go with what she truly felt. "I'd say it's safe to say that I am, yes."

He sighed, staring at his feet. "Well, you shouldn't be. Not much here at all." His voice was shaky and thick with emotion, and he tried to recover as best as he could by changing the subject. "Aren't they beautiful?" he asked, motioning towards the festively decorated trees.

"Yes, they're gorgeous. They remind me of Christmas at home, especially with the snow," she smiled, pointing towards the bewitched ceiling. "It's the simple things in life that make you happiest, I suppose." She continued to gaze at the snow above her, reminiscing her earliest childhood memories. "I wish we could go outside right now and build snowmen. That would be a lot better than just sitting in here, wouldn't it?" She playfully asked. Receiving no answer, she glanced to Draco. 

His eyes were tightly closed, where no vision or light could be seen, his cheeks now reddened were stained with several tear tracks, and his chin trembled as if an icy wind was hitting him head on, which severely frightened Hermione. The state that Draco was in was all too shocking for her to handle at the moment, but she knew she had to try. Seeing his face twisted with pain and tears made her feminine, maternal side switch into full gear. Any caring female couldn't possibly let a suffering person sit in anguish for no reason… even if it was a Malfoy.

"Draco?" her voice was barely a whisper, but it snapped him back to reality as if a lightning bolt had struck him dead in the head.

She bore into his eyes, those deep pools of ice, riddled with agony, misery, and hate. Recognizing it all too well, she was certain he was lost.

"What is it? Something is bothering you, I can tell. It's alright, you can confide in me."

As a gesture of amity and support, she reached for his hand and held it.

Immediately experiencing more pain and alarm, Draco roughly drew back from her grasp.

Surely Hermione would have been surprised by his reaction if it hadn't of been for the warm, wet sensation sliding in her hand. It caught her attention once she had come in contact with his skin, and she knew it couldn't have been perspiration. She recalled what it was like to hold a sweaty hand only because of Ron and his nervous ways. This feeling was unusual. Stickier. Warmer.

Fear petrified her eyes to his face, afraid to look down.

For what seemed like an eternity, she glanced to find a dark reddish substance covering the inside of her hand.

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Blood?, her mind asked as she fingered the thick, iron-smelling liquid. 

Her own blood was rushing to her head. "What did you do, Malfoy?"

She began to panic, her heart a flutter, her face blushed crimson. "Have you… killed someone?"

"For Slytherin's sakes, no! Have you gone mad?"

"Then explain this!" she exclaimed, pointing to the red ooze across her fingers.

"What of it, Hermione? It's –my- blood!" he screeched, throwing his fingernail-mangled palms in the air. "Are you satisfied now? There, you've discovered one of my flaws!!"

"Calm down! You'll wake someone and then you'll have twice the explaining to do." Even though this was a possible point, it wasn't her major concern. She knew what it was like to deal with his anger, the blinding fury that never ceased until the enemy had surrendered and fled. Hermione knew shouldn't couldn't run, because she was already in too deep. Since she had seen him like this, she knew there was no possible way that he would let her walk away now. 

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He may be afraid to open up to me…I can't believe he's decided to talk to –me-, Hermione Granger, a mudblood in his eyes. It must be serious.

What worried her the most was the brief glimmers that appeared in his eyes from time to time. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it looked to have a pinch of wildness with uncertainty- a very bad mixture.

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Those eyes… he's troubled, for sure, but there's more he's hiding. You have to persuade him to let his guard down, she told herself. 

Almost exhausted by her brief efforts, she sighed and started with her new plan. "Would you please tell my why you've cut yourself?"

Draco eyed his outstretched hands with a scary, sad admiration like an artist who had completed his newest masterpiece, _The Butchered Mona Lisa_. "They're not cuts, just… deep nail imprints." 

"What are their purposes?" she asked, starting to show agitation by crossing her arms in the same fashion as before.

"I don't quite know that answer. First, I did it to stop myself from giving in like a baby, but it only made things worse. They sting and burn like nothing I've ever felt before." Draco stopped, aware of all the feelings he was sharing with a proclaimed enemy.

"If you –ever- tell anyone what I've said, I'll make you so sorry that you'll wish you have never learned to talk. I'll teach you the true definition of pain. You understand?" His threat slid off his tongue in a hiss-like manner that sent a wicked chill down Hermione's spine. She couldn't understand his negativity or his way of going about things. _He's as charming as a snake_, she bitterly thought.

"Why do you feel that you have to threaten me to get your way? You could be more polite. And besides, I'm here on my own free will. I don't –have- to be here. So if you want my company, you better respect me."

He searched her face and found no signs of fear or intimidation. _She's serious. I like it. _Draco didn't know how to handle this girl. She seemed to be matching his ferocity and wit at the same pace as he, and he found it impressive.

"I'll try and work on that," he said, giving a sarcastic smile.

Responding to his sarcasm, she rolled her eyes. "You need to open up to someone. If you did, it would make a world of difference."

"Open up?" laughed Draco, "Open up what? The years of scars and wounds that I have acquired from so-called friends and even my father? I'd rather not have my feelings trampled anymore than they already are, thank you."

Hermione was easily becoming impatient. _How am I supposed to deal with THIS_, her mind screamed. She searched for words that would evoke another emotion out of him, one other than bitterness. 

"I didn't know you could feel, Draco."

"What's that supposed to mean," he growled, mistaking her comment but allowing her ample time to explain.

"My thinking is perfectly logical. You're a Slytherin and you always act like one. Cold, ruthless, spiteful, as if you have no feelings. It's quite a gift you have, honestly. I thought nothing I said ever hurt you, so it was pointless for me to even try and seek revenge for all the days you made me cry. In my mind, you could never be touched, as inhuman as they may come. But these tears, Draco… they are the proof that you're normal. You –are- human and you have the right to your emotions. You shouldn't box them up like you do. It eats away at you from the inside, leaving the dead carcass of a soul." 

"Oh, I am far from dead," he protested, "Far from it. Every day, a new hell is born in the very center of me, and it's a breeding ground for my hatred of the world. I'm livid on the inside."

"Then let it out, for goodness sakes! Don't let it fester and make things worse!" Hermione's voice crept higher with each word, and she had to calm herself before she spoke again. "Listen. As of now, I volunteer to be a listener to all of your woes. But, before you rudely insult me and ask why you should talk to –me-, I give you my word as a Gryffindor that I will not betray you, Draco. Whatever is said will be between us only, I promise."

The young boy sat and weighed the issues. _Should I let her help me? Is she expecting me to actually open up? Or is she getting some sick pleasure** I** would normally get… for being able to say she pried in my head… I wonder… but she doesn't seem the type. I don't know about this. Test time, _he thought.

"Promises can be broken. Swear it."

"What?" Hermione questioned.

"I said swear it….on Potter's life," he added.

"WHAT?" she repeated, "Honestly, you can't be serious!"

"These are my feelings, Granger. Of course I'm serious. **Dead** serious. Say it or no deal."

She managed to let out a dreadful groan. _What have I gotten myself into? This is insane. HE'S insane. No… I'M insane._

Her throat thickened as if it was trying to stop her from speaking her reply. "Alright," she swallowed, "I swear.. on Harry's life." 

From the moment the words left her mouth, she felt instant regret. Draco's facial expression didn't help either, since he flashed a grim grin at her decision. _Be careful, Hermione, _she told herself,_ he may be using you to get to Harry… be very careful. _"What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing," he said softly, "Why have you decided to try and help me?" 

"New Years resolution #13 – to help a person who don't like with a problem. Thought maybe I could get a jump start."

Draco couldn't help the smirk that escaped his lips. "Ah, #13, huh? That's a lot. Care to share the others?"

"In your dreams, Malfoy."

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Whoa. Impressively feisty. Bonus. Now I have her all to myself since she agreed to the deal, someone just for me. Draco's senses were excited with his victory, but he used his gift of covering his emotions well. 

"So where would you like to start," she asked, getting right to the point.

"I'd rather not start tonight, if you don't mind. I don't want to dwell on my problems anymore this Christmas Eve. Plus, that's a -New Years- resolution, not a Christmas one. I say we meet back here at, let's say, eleven forty-five on New Years Eve. Sound good?"

"But do you think it's best to wait all that time? You look really upset, Draco."

"I'm fine, Hermione. This made me feel a little better," he said, motioning to his hands.

"Here, I can heal those," she offered, reaching for her wand, but Draco politely refused. 

"Reminders," he simply stated.

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You're not getting off that easily, Mister, she silently laughed. "You can get an infection if you just let them sit like that. Can't you do something about the blood flow?" 

"Alright, alright. If it stops your babbling." From inside one of his pockets, he pulled a silk, dark green handkerchief. "Perfect," Draco chuckled, " Green and red. Just right for the season!"

"Glad to see you still have that sense of humor…holy cricket! Look at the time! Draco, we've got to get to our dormitories, we will certainly have our buns crispy-burned if we're out any longer!" 

"Right. I –am- a bit tired. Remember what I've said though."

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That's all he has to say to me? I can't believe that's all he has to say! 

She watched him walk towards the door, and she followed behind him, sulking like an unhappy child. _All of my effort, gone unappreciated. What did you expect?_

Her self-scolding came to a halt as she noticed Draco stopped walking and turned to face her.

His last two words were like sunshine to a darkened day for Hermione: "Thank you."

With that, they both left the Great Hall and found their ways to each dormitory as quietly as possible. Hermione and Draco were able to slip into their rooms unnoticed, and as they settled in their own beds, the two had their final thoughts for the night. 

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I'm making a difference in a person's life. Tiny me having an effect on Draco Malfoy? Unbelievable, she thought. A small laugh was muffled as she turned to readjust her pillow. Her enthusiasm was thereafter subdued by her subconscious's realization of the agreement she'd made. She had knowingly put Harry's life in danger, and part of her would not let her forget that. 

__

What a great thing to know that there is someone in the world that cares about me, Draco said to himself, as he pulled his blanket up to his chin, concealing the warmth that had enveloped him. He found Hermione's essence enlightening, and he wanted to conserve all that he had been subjected to until he saw her again. 

Their thoughts came to a final close as they drifted into deep, peaceful sleeps. Funny how their minds knew they'd need such long, hard rest for the Christmas day to come. 

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	2. Christmas Eve: A Different POV

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Christmas Eve: A Different POV

Unbeknownst to anyone, a shy figure spied into the Great Hall from behind one of the massive doors. 

What is that slime ball doing with her? 

The protective person watched with intent-filled eyes, ready to pounce and save the day if anything went wrong. 

As what started as a delightful adventure of following the girl he loved, his evening took a weird turn for the worse. Morose clouds of jealousy and disbelief overwhelmed the young boy.

They were holding hands a moment ago… they're sitting and talking like normal friends. Is this some deceitful alliance? Is Hermione looking to betray us? Are they -together-? That would be horrid…

He glanced back to see them smiling.

Oh blimey, it's true! She wouldn't act like this towards him with us around. Hermione is betraying us! My love… is with the enemy.

Confused and distraught, he left the two to their late night rendezvous and sulked back to the Gryffindor common room. Silently, he slipped into bed and covered his head tightly with a pillow. He was desperate to forget what he had just witnessed.

Unable to shake his unease, Ron wept himself into restless sleep.

(A/N: Hey everybody. Just a little comment or two here. If you're wondering how I'm going to write this story, each chapter will be a day- like Christmas Day and New Years Eve, etc. There will also be different points of view, like this chapter. Sorry that it was short, hehe. I'll try and update soon!)

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	3. Christmas Morning

Hermione's eyes struck open in alarm as a female first year rapped on her shoulder. 

"What is it?" she groggily moaned, half-angry and half-afraid of what the girl might say. 

"There's a Slytherin standing outside asking for you. I won't dare let him inside the common room. You have to get up and see what he wants. He won't go away, Hermione! He's really scary and he yelled at me," she squeaked, fear rattling in her voice. 

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First years, the biggest bunch of yellow bellies known to Hogwarts.

Hermione shooed the young Gryffindor out so she could at least wipe the sleep from her eyes and throw on decent clothes and a robe for warmth. She glanced out the window to see that the grounds were heavily blanketed with layers upon layers of gorgeous snow. Perfect for Christmas. 

Hermione stomped through the common room, glaring at the girl who had interrupted her placid dreams. She couldn't believe this was such a big deal. 

As Hermione stepped out of the door, she was pelted by something in the shoulder. And blimey, it stung!!! She cradled the now-tender spot and focused her wall-penetrating glare towards a grinning blonde boy standing over in the corner.

"Jeez, Malfoy - that hurt!"

"Lucky I missed my target."

"And what was that? My head?"

Draco gave a sleek smile. "You know me well, Hermione." Suddenly he sprinted away from her, quickly exiting outside through a side door. He was silently hoping she would follow. And she did. 

Hermione would have matched his speed if it hadn't been for the door handle that attacked her. Unaware that her robe had been hung, she kept running…and it was a nasty shock to be jerked back and hear the fabric rip.

Draco stopped to watch her struggle with the handle and he quite simply found the whole ordeal entertaining. When Hermione was finally freed, she was cursing almost everything - Draco, the door handle, her robe… she rambled on and on about that being her only warm piece of clothing that looked decent. She stopped paying attention to the giggling boy and shrugged off the robe to try and repair it. 

Meanwhile, taking advantage of the distraction, Draco prepared another large and heavy snowball and quickly launched it in Hermione's direction. It smacked her directly in the side of the neck, which stunned her for a moment. Blinking, she said, "Goodness, Draco. You really are a bad shot."

"You just keep on running that mouth of yours. I'll get you eventually. I'm getting closer with each shot." He chucked more snow at her, and she had to duck for it to swish past her head.

Angry, Hermione charged at Draco, swung to hit him in the chest, and miserably failed.

She swung too hard and missed by a great distance, subsequently spinning and slamming onto the ground. The jolt was painful and it made her back ache at the very instant of impact. It felt as if she landed directly on razor-sharp icicles and they'd traveled all the way up her bottom.

Draco guffawed at the sight of her tumble but quickly composed himself as he realized she wasn't getting up. _Is she alright?_

"You ok?"

Hermione tried to breathe without her back hurting too much. "I think so, I'm just waiting for the sting to go away. Just let me sit here for a moment."

Watching her wince as she took in breaths, Draco started to become worried. He'd never seen that look on her face. He had only seen Hermione when she was extremely happy or extremely mad. He'd never seen her in pain…

He slowly approached her, afraid that he would agitate her in some way. He plopped down right by Hermione's side, not taking his eyes from her face. She noticed that he was staring at her, and she couldn't help but feel strange. "Are you trying to mess with me? Because now isn't a good time, Draco." 

"No, I just want to sit with you. Do you want me to go find Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, it's alright. I think it's starting to go away." She tried testing her back, slightly straightening it more, but her actions were promptly followed by more shooting pains. "Oh, guess not," she cringed.

"Where does it hurt? Show me where." He softly placed one of his hands on her lower back to support her as she pointed to her middle section. "From here and down." 

"All of that hurts?" Draco questioned.

"Yes," she painfully gasped.

"Hermione, you have to see Madame Pomfrey, this isn't normal."

"No! I still think it can fade away." 

He hardly sighed at her words. They sat on the frozen ground in silence for a couple more minutes. Then, Draco pulled his green and white scarf off and carefully placed it around Hermione's neck.

"What's this for?" she questioned.

"Don't act like you weren't shivering. I saw you just then. How's your back now?"

Hermione slightly twisted to place her hand in the snow but burst into tears because the pain was too overwhelming.

"Alright, that's it. It's going to be ok, Hermione. I'm taking you to the hospital wing. Put your arms around my neck, I'm going to pick you up, I'll take care of you." Slowly he slid one arm under her legs and the other behind her sensitive back and lifted her from the ground. Her small frame was almost weightless in Draco's arms so he hurried as fast as he could down the halls. He couldn't stand having her cry on his shoulder. Not because he was cold… but that he couldn't stand seeing and hearing her in pain. 

As they reached Madame Pomfrey's room, both of their minds were screaming the same thing.

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Please let this stop, this has to stop.

A/N: Hello, all. (Sorry if there were any grammatical errors, I didn't proofread at all. Yes, I admit it.) It's been a while since I've sat down and thought about this story. I think I might change the plot just a smidge, but it'll be ok. =) I thought it would be good to add Draco actually helping Hermione, something we've never seen before! This is definitely going to be an unconventional Harry Potter fic. It will possibly have a dark ending, I'll have to decide. We'll see. 


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